Welcome to My World
by Dr. Francis Blowhole
Summary: Pain. Eyes slowly pried theirselves open only to be greeted by the consuming darkness. He tried to move but even the slightest of movements had a bitter copper taste flooding his mouth. Blood. SI. Humanized Penguins.
1. Chapter 1

**_Pain._**

 ** _Eyes slowly pried theirselves open only to be greeted by the consuming darkness._**

 ** _He tried to move but even the slightest of movements had a bitter copper taste flooding his mouth._**

 ** _Blood._**

 ** _Since it was obvious moving wasn't the best of options at the moment, the man allowed his body to go lax as he tried to control his breathing. Each breath was agonizing as he could feel the shrapnel digging deeper into his chest but he needed something to keep him awake. Sleeping right now would be suicidal._**

 ** _Not that the actions that got him in this situation wasn't. Locking oneself in a room with a bomb wasn't the safest or the healthiest plan after all, but the room had been the only one capable on withstanding the blast. And the idiot that designed this place had put the lock on the inside._**

 ** _Honestly was there no common sense out there?_**

 ** _Someone had to stay behind or risk losing the whole district. Why not him? He was the eldest there and the other's where so young with their whole lives ahead of them._**

 ** _Maybe if there had been more time he could of come up with a better plan, but he didn't and there was no point pondering the maybes and what ifs of life._ He had to live with his choices. **

**Even if his choices currently had him painfully bleeding to death while buried only God knows how many feet under the wreckage.**

Oh 'Ello. I didn't see you there. You're probably wondering what's going on aren't you?

I suppose I could feel you in. Its not like I'm going anywhere any time soon. Where to start though?

Well you know what they say: The best place to start is at the Beginning. Of course my beginning wasn't exactly a normal one. I wasn't always this way, this person you see.

Before my life became a Living TV Series I was just an everyday normal person.

I hated hosptials.

Liked listening to a verity of music.

I founts school tolerable though honestly l spent a good third of my classes daydreaming.

I played soccor, spent hours reading or on my laptop.

I was your avarage high school graduate preparing to take on the world.

Though most importantly:

I had a family.

I was a Sister, a Daughter, a Cousin, a Niece, a favored Aunt.

And I lost it all.

You're porbally wondering how this happened.

Heh, get in line.

A good sixty years here and I still haven't figured it out.

I had gotten sick.

I'm quite certain it wasn't anything serious. A slight flu, quite common around winter really. Espically when one runs around in the snow when only wearing shorts and a muscle shirt while trying to carry the small snowman my little sister built because I just couldn't say no to **_that_** look.

So I got sick, I half expected it really.

And it wasn't that bad to be honest. Fluffy covers with fluffy pillows and hot beef stew thanks to my older brother- even if it came with his usual ' _I told you so. You should be more responsible'_ Speech.

It had been peaceful, relaxing.

And if I had known then what I knew now: I _**never** _ would have fallen asleep.

But I didn't and I did.

When I woke my life had became nothing more then the equivalent of a bad fanfiction. Instead of being a twenty year old woman I was a fucking newborn.

Congratulations on your son indeed.

I wanted a God Damn Refund...

I still haven't got it.

Who am I?

Well, I suspose the least I can do is introduce myself as thanks for listening to my rant.

 _'Ello. I'm Nigel. Pleasure to make your acquaintance._


	2. Chapter 2

This wasn't my bed.

That was my first thought upon returning to consciousness.

My bed was soft, warm and fluffy not slimy, cold and cramped. For a brief moment I considered this to be another of my cousin's pranks.

But if that was so, where was the lights?

Even at the latest aspects of night my room was never this dark. Usually I could see the outline of the TV or my Desk but I couldn't see anything. I waited a few more moments- maybe he had painted my windows black again and was waiting for me to panic?- before I tried to sit up.

Key word on try.

It was alomst impossible to move despite my best efforts and the panic began to sink in as I struggled harder and harder. I didn't care if it sprained something or was making a fool of myself.

I wanted out.

 **Now.**

And that's when the voices started.

 _'...Coming...'_

 _'...Too Early... Wait...'_

 _'Tell...to them...'_

Honestly I thought I had gone mad for a moment there. Or that maybe this was all a dream.

I lessoned my strugges at the idea.

A Dream! Why didn't I think of it sooner?! I was such an idiot, this was all just a dream caused by the fever! All I had to do was relax a bit and wait. I'd wake up sooner or later.

More of the muffled voices had joined the first two.

 _'Room...Premature...Chance...'_

 _'...Termination...'_

 _'...Lose both...Choice...'_

 _'...Baby...'_

Baby? What Baby?

The words echoed and a picture was beginning to form, one I didn't like. I didn't dream about Babies and I sure as Hell didn't dream about terminating any either. Either the fever was screwing me over worse then I originally believed or-

And then there was a feeling as though I was inside a dropping elevator before it manages to catch itself right before it could hit the bottom.

There was muffled screams and shouts about _'push harder'_ \- judging from the screams they where either trying to push a poor woman off a skyscraper or...

Fuck.

The light was blinding causing my eyes to close in hopes to vanish the sudden pain though the now clear voice calling out _'Its a Boy'_ was a million times worse. The cold was quickly replaced with a soft warmth as one of the giant woman wrapped me in a towel before handing me off to a man only moments before we where both shoved out the door and frantic shouts came from within.

I must admit..

I was a bit worried for the woman. I didn't see much but that was a lot of blood I saw before the man was pushed out of the room. Dream or not, I was certain no one was supposed to loose that much blood during... Childbirth.

As for the man, he was a bit of a strange one.

It wasn't everyday you meet someone who wasn't an albino with hair such a natural shade of white but judging by the small tuffs on my own head it was natural. His eyes reminded me of storm clouds, was it even possible for someone to have that natural shade?

I would of liked to have examined the man more but another nurse had showed up and before I knew it I had switched hands and was in this kind of see through box.

Don't even get me started on the poking, prodding and needles.

When I saw the man again, he was alone. He just sat outside the box starring in with a look of sorrow.

The look was familiar, I had seen it before several times in my life.

I had a feeling I wouldn't be meeting the woman after all.

* * *

Being inside the see-through box was boring.

There was never much to do but sleep and listen to the man talk when he was there. Strangely enough he seemed to always be there except for a few hours each day. Maybe he was afraid the nurse that suggested adoption or termination would try something behind his back?

I wasn't sure and honestly didn't care that much. A part of me still hoped this was a bad dream but after a month...

Well I had given up on that hope.

And if this wasn't a dream, it could only be reality. Of course I began to question that as well when the man arrived one day with another man by the name of Victor von Sova.

It didn't take a genius to piece things together.

Golden eyes and snowy white hair. Victor von Sova.

A smooth Russian accent as he talked to the man he called Agent Dylan about MI6, Penguins, and a _'damn American Agent named Jethro Rockgut'_.

And then my own name: Nigel.

My little sister had always gone on about a TV show she watched on Nickelodeon- sometimes going as far as to force me into watching a matron of them with her. How they where humans instead of flightless birds and an owl was beyond me.

The only answer I truly sought was how in the seven hell did my life become the equitant of a bad fanfiction? Better yet, what was I expected to do for the next sixty years until the plot will begin?

* * *

 _AN: I'm sure everyone knows a Disclaimer by now but just in case. I do not own PoM. I only own the SI that is now Agent Nigel and the story idea. If you notice any typing errors please point them out and I will do my best to correct them when I get the time to do so._

 _Thank You._

 _Dr. Francis Blowhole_


	3. Chapter 3

I used to tell my little sister:

 _Nurses are soulless demons. Doctors are Devils in disguise and hospitals are breeding grounds for aliens hoping to conquer the world._

Of course I knew this wasn't completely true- Aliens would never lower theirselves to such primitive means of world domination. The movies always made then seem more of the flashy head on type- but my sister didn't know that and was sadly rather gullible to anything I told her.

What could I say? It was just too easy to rile her up when she took my every word as though it was a written gospel.

So it didn't really suprise me when one of the soulless demons tried to murder me while I was still inside that see though box.

Tired being the keyword. She didn't get much of an oppurtunity to carry out the deed before she was given a one way exit out of a nearby window.

Eh, I've seen better.

Though I still find it mightly convenient how the man that was now my Father showed up out of nowhere just in the nick of time almost as if he was waiting for it to happen...

...If he used me as bait I swear I will make the next ten years a living hell for him.

* * *

In all honestly, Dylan was worried.

According to all his friends, Co-workers, even his arch nemesis, children that young where susposed to be loud and needy; waking you up at every hour on the hour- espically at night.

The opposite of his little one.

Nigel was a quiet infant, unnaturally quiet at that. He didn't cry, he didn't scream, instead he just seemed to observe everything with a curious glint to his emerald eyes.

 _A Mental Disorder_ , the Doctor MI6 had sent had expained with a shake of his head and a look of pity in his eyes, _You should start looking into sending him into an institution_.

Like Hell he would.

Dylan was no fool, he knew very well _The Wards_ where nothing more then a fancy cover for Doctors to torture or experiment on their patients under the pretense of helping them.

Mental Disorder or Not, His Lad would stay here, Safely tucked in his cri-

Stormy eyes stared at the empty crib for a moment in silent disbelief.

 _Fuck._

* * *

 _ **Freedom!**_

I probally would have crackled like a mad woman had my vocal cords been capable of doing so as I crawled as fast as my little knees and hands could take me down the dark hallway.

"Nigel!"

The panic cry only had me crawling faster as I heard My Father rush about my room- _took him long enough to snap out of whatever little fantasy was playing in his head_ \- in an attempt to place more space between us.

I knew I was being a little shit, but I didn't really care.

Sure I had proablly been a bit too quiet for an infant of not even Eighteen months but I wasn't mental. I just had a lot on my mind and maybe tried to make a good impression on the elder and what did he do?

The man who's susposed to be my Father brought a Doctor to our home and hadn't even had the deceny to stand up for his own infant when the other all but claimed I suffered a 'Mental Disorder'. All he had done was numbly nod his head to everything the man said.

My being a little shit was completely justified as far as I cared.

 _ **Bam!**_

For a moment all I could do was blink slowly in disblief at the oak door ahead of me- so lost in my own thoughts I hadn't even noticed it was closed anterior to rushing head first into it- before I could feel the tears begining to form in the corner of my eyes.

 _Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry._

I pratically begged myself in a futile gesture before the damn busted with a loud earpiercing wail.

 _Fun Fact: No matter how old you are mentally. An infant's body will always act on natural impulses no matter how hard you attempt to curve it._

I was still wailling when gentle hands picked me up and as a smooth voice tried to reassure and calm me.

* * *

Sighing softly, Dlyan relaxed in his comfy chair lisening to the crackle of the fireplace, while making sure to keep an arm around the infant sleeping soundly against his chest while clinging to his suit's black jacket.

Crawling...

He wasn't sure how he felt, knowing his child was already capable of rushing out of sight at a moments notice. Espically upon seeing the dark bruise begining to form on his Lad's forehead.

He hadn't exactly gotten around to baby proofing his head as of yet since all the books he read stated infants shouldn't start crawling into eighteen months to two years of age- depending on mental capabilites.

Nigel was only eight months, twenty day, six hours, fourty- two minutes and fifteen seconds old. He shouldn't have the muscle to crawl about yet his Lad was proving to once again be going against the guidelines.

And then there was the small issue of how his son managed to escape the crib in the first place.

Another sigh left the spy as he gently brushed a hand through soft, snowy hair.

"You're going to be a little hellion, aren't you?"

The infants only response was to cuddle closer to his chest for warmth as small, delicate hands tightened their hold.

* * *

It was offical: ** _Doors are the new found bane of my existence_.**

Finally manage to craw and for what? A locked door with a doorknob I couldn't reach.

Some dienty out there was probally mocking me at this very moment. They where probally looking down from some cloud with a self satisfied smirk and a cocky tone.

 _'Whats the point of crawling if you can't get out of your room?'_

Go on, laugh it up. As if my new found life wasn't screwed up enough.

Still at least it couldn't get any worse, right?

...

...

...

I just screwed myself over didn't I?

Is it too late to take it back?


	4. Chapter 4

Dylan's a good father but he's always busy with something or another. I don't mind, It give me plenty of time to practice my walking.

Its not as easy as I remember but eventually I manage to make my way over to the door despite my legs trembling like a leaf in the wind. Most probably would have been ecstatic by such success and for a moment I am. But then it fades and a scowl- looking more like a pout- finds its way to my face.

The doorknobs still out of my reach.

Still I was nothing if not stubborn. Glancing around the room I tried to locate a way of elevating myself. There wasn't much and while I know my brother would have ridiculed my choices had he been there I still stand firmly behind my decision; stacking back seemed like a smatter idea then wooden blocks after all.

In the end though, _'resistance was futile'_ as my hands where too small, too chubby to fit around the blasted knob. Whelp, when all else fails go to Plan B. I carefully place the books back on the shelf before laying on the ground next to the crib had left me and before screaming like a banshee.

The man should be given a metal for how fast he managed to relocate himself into my bedroom and pluck me off the floor. There's confusion in his stormy eyes as he glances about the room, almost as though he expects to find someone else in there.

"How in Haven's name did you manage to get on the floor, Lad?"

... I'll tell him when he's older.

For now, Plan B was in affect.

* * *

There was something amusing adorable about watching a grown man attempt to teach an infant to speak.

"Dada? Dad? Father? Dylan? Come on Nigel. I know you can do this. Just one word. "

Well, I liked to consider myself a good dau- err. Son and to be honest he just looked so pitiful- like a half starved puppy haven been kicked and left out in the rain- at that moment. How could I not grant him his one word?

"Papa? Home? Love? Daddy?"

Of course, he should know the number one rule to wishes:

"SHIT!"

The elder's face froze in horror, his stormy eyes wide as he jaw moved silently for a few moments before regaining himself.

"No Nigel! Bad. We don't say words like that!"

 _Be careful what you wish for. It just might come true._

"Where did you even hear such a nasty word?"

To pacify the man, I made sure my second and third words were: _Love Dada_. He could lite up a room with the smile that followed.

* * *

I officially kidnapped when I'm two.

Dylan's off on some mission- having one of his Colleagues babysit for him. He's rather young for a Spy so he's likely someone's protégé. The fact he keeps jumping at shadows only serves to solidify that opinion. I, being the merciful soul I am, decided to have pity on the young agent. I only break one vase, Fath- Dylan didn't like it anyway so he'll likely give the poor soul a tip.

Well... He might have done so if I was kidnapped- if it could be called that- on his watch.

Its rather embarrassing to have your babysitter faint upon the sight of what people call Enemy Number One standing within the doorway. Judging from the look Victor gives the man the _'Mad Owl'_ likely feels the same. I can't help but give the Agent the same look before focusing on Victor, holding out my arms and narrowing my emerald eyes.

"Up."

For a moment the man just stands there before an amused gleam enters his eyes and hands carefully left me up. I decide then and there I like Victor.

He's warm, comfortable and he smells nice- not of cheap perfume or cologne. He doesn't talk to me like I'm braindead but like an equal- something only Dylan had bothered doing before. Its a nice change in pace.

Sova Castle is huge, but then again, it is a castle. People dressed solely in white rush about yet always seems to have time to bow or address the golden eye man. Not once am I put down or handed off to another.

It takes three days for my Father to arrive in a blind panic.

The man really should get a metal for his speed alone seeing as his mission was supposed to be on the other side of the world.

* * *

To be honest being a infant had a lot of downside but there was one good thing about it.

As an infant everyone looks at you and thinks _'how precious'_ and vastly overestimates you as they pinch your cheeks with nails that should be considered hazardous. I suppose that's another reason I liked Victor; he kept his hands away from my face instead of trying to puncture holes in it.

Shame my Father's co-workers couldn't manage to do the same. After meeting but a sparse few of them I've firmly decided that the Senior Agent may as well be Saints seeing how their Protégés reminded me of a bunch of _'holier then thou'_ stuck up prats playing dress up.

I surprise anyone had enough space to breathe with all the massive egos in that room.

As for the senior Agents while there where a few oversized and highly overconfident egos, their biggest issue seemed to be their loose lips concerning _'Classified'_ information when they believe no one is listening, especially when their only audience is a _'Little One'_. I supposed they should be thankful no one's thought to build an infant like android and drop it off in the middle of their HQ during their annual gatherings. Still I didn't' mind. Its not like I had anything better to do then listen to every dark secret they would tell.

Maybe it was because I knew I was already destined for this fate or maybe because I enjoyed knowing things I shouldn't? Probably a bit of both if I'm honest. I always did have a hobby of collecting another's secrets.

* * *

I don't like babysitters. I'm not quite sure why; I've only had four in my currently short newfound existence. It may have something to do with the fact a majority of those in which my father hires to look after me attempts to kill me.

The First fainted upon the first sign of danger.

The Second had attempted to suffocate me.

The third had attempted to poison me.

I was hoping the fourth would be different but when Dylan arrived home he fount her attempting to drown me while screaming about _'The Devil's Child'_.

I honestly have no idea what she's talking about but while clinging to My Father's suit I make sure to tell him the fact half of our house has been blown up and the other half is covered in scorch marks is solely the crazy woman's fault.

He believes me, I think walking in on her trying to drown me helped.

We moved into The Family Manor after that. Dylan's hesitant to allow anyone to babysit me now.

 _Mission Accomplished._

* * *

Lets be blunt shall we?

My Father, despite being a spy, was a rather obvious man at times. So maybe that was why only I noticed the Harlot trying to weasel her way into our lives. Oh she must have thought herself clever and oh so subtle but I saw her for what she was.

Maybe I was a bit possessive? Maybe being a toddler was effecting my mind a bit more then I originally suspected but the moment I saw the way she would steal glances at my father; I utterly loathed Alice Anderson with every fiber within my small body. Possession is nine tenths of the law and I was here first.

No matter what other's would whisper or say; I did not need a mother. Nor would I permit anyone to take that mantel. Especially not Alice Anderson.

Either way it was rather obvious my Father was as straight as Lombard Street. By getting rid of her I would be doing the older a favor.

In my previous life I only took acting and drama class to please my niece. I never could find it within myself to tell her no when she gave me this wide eyed hopeful look that had a way of making me feel as though I was the last decent thing on the planet and I would turn to utter scum if I refused. My brother said I spoiled her...

Well he wasn't wrong but it would appear those classes would finally be put to proper use.

The Name of the Game is:

 _Sabotage._


	5. Chapter 5

Sabotage.

Anyone who's had siblings has probably played this game once or twice in their lives.

The object of the game is rather simple:

Commit an act- any act no matter how big or small would do- and try to convince your parents it was one of your siblings instead.

The rules are even simpler:

Don't get caught.

My older brother loved to play this game and well... Maybe there was something to that Twin Theory after all because I fount I rather enjoyed it myself. Heh, the look on my brother's face when he stared a game and I twisted it until he accidently relieved himself in front of our guardian was hilarious.

I'm not quite sure what the game was meant to teach but I know how it can be used to one's advantage.

And unfortunately for Alice, I was an expert at it.

* * *

If one was to ask Dylan what he thought of his son, he spy would tell them that Nigel was an _unique_ child.

He was a smart Lad, the younger's emerald eyes would sharpen and focus whenever anyone around him talked. They would observe a room and its occupants with a tensity the Dylan didn't see in most adults. At times, the elder spy was willing to swear his son actually understood everything spoken to or that which was going on around him. So he installed cameras into the light fixtures of his son's room as security measure. Victor had already broken in once and taken the toddler, what was there to stop other's from trying?

He had known his son was capable of walking, it was a rather proud moment watching the Lad waddle his way to him on shaky legs, yet watching the two and a half year old climb out of his crib and walk across the room without so much as a quiver showed his son had advanced a bit more then the first believed.

Little Nigel had been adorable and rather resourceful as he carefully stacked books so emerald eyed toddler could reach the doorknob and exit the _'prison'_ of his room. Yet his son rarely used his skills out in the open, instead the white haired boy would sit on a where ever he was placed and cry until his father finally picked him up.

As a spy, Dylan was trained to notice the unusual. To see deeper then just a persons skin.

So he started testing the Lad in the disguise of games. Nigel loved games. His emerald eyes would lite up with a childish delight every Dylan made time every the elder made time in his busy schedule to play. The results where astonishing.

A two and a half year old with an IQ of 178. Q had assured the spy his son's IQ would only grow with time and that his young Lad was for all intents and purposes A prodigy.

 _A reclusive prodigy._ Heh, the title suited his son well.

Nigel was a bright lad. His understanding of everything that went on around him, everything that was ever said to him. He was just, for all sense and words; Shy.

Though the elder man never allowed his son to notice he knew, Dylan stops doing paperwork at the dinner table and makes sure to lock any papers concerning his work into the safe in his study. He tries not to think of all the Classified Information the Lad likely already knows.

The elder spends more time reading old tomes and explaining the basic curtsies such as the importance of manners and of keeping secrets to his son instead of childish bed time stories. A week later he hires Alice Anderson as a live-in household maid and hopefully a good replacement for the Mother Figure Dylan knows he can never grant his son.

Though his son is all smiles and polite short clipped words, Dylan swears he briefly saw a flash of something in the toddler's eyes but it was gone too quick for even his sharp eyes to grant a proper name.

* * *

Dylan Tux was everything a woman could desire:

A proper well educated, aristocrat. He was as handsome as he was charming, his words a silk desire waiting to be unwrapped. The stormy eyed man had a decent sized manor and a rather large bank account.

He also had a son.

Nigel Tux was a delicate copy of his father but with eyes of emeralds. Young and impressionable but not quite old enough to be considered handsome. Matter of fact he looked more like a beautiful little girl then a son with all that baby fat and large doe eyes.

And probably the most important of all: Motherless.

Alice figured she could work with that. Young children where easy to manipulate and if the child loved someone their parents usually followed suit.

Befriend the child, seduce the father, acquire the Ladyship and all that was entitled with it.

Afterwards it would be child play to ship the child away to the a year round boarding school in Siberia- more specifically the one right next to those not so legal labs when she could place a few calls and no one would ever know where the child disappeared to- leaving the First Born Title and Heir Position open for any children she had.

Simple, short, easy...

Or it should have been.

If she had to estimate when everything first started falling about, it would have to be from the very moment she laid eyes upon the little demon that pretended to be an angel named Nigel Tux.

* * *

To be honest I was a bit annoyed.

Three weeks of torment and that bloody woman was still here, still eyeing my old man like a hungry lioness, though she was a tad more cautious around me.

Clever woman, but not clever enough if she was still hanging around where she obviously wasn't welcomed. At first I started out small; broken vases, misplaced items, wailing like a banshee everything she came within three feet of either me or Dylan, simple things really.

Obviously that didn't work so I took it up a step:

Stolen objects would magically relocate theirselves into that woman's belonging, the stove would reset its temperature a good hundred degrees higher then what it should be, dresses within her closet would find theirselves torn and muddy.

Yet even that didn't work. So I once more upped the ante.

Her electronics- first chance I got I was somehow going to reinvent modern day electronics. I could barely hold her 'cellphone' with both hands. Lets not even get started on that old dinosaur of a personal computer. - would somehow find their way into the washing machine, nails would relocate theirselves into her shoes, her wardrobe somehow caught on fire. Hell, I even managed to cut off a good majority of her hair while she slept.

Did she have any idea how difficult it was for me to stage all this?... Err...I mean how difficult it was for me to watch her bumbling idioticity. She would have been doing everyone a great favor by removing herself from the premises as soon as possible.

Yet she stayed and still kept eying my old man like a piece of steak.

* * *

"Dylan, there's something seriously wrong with that child of yours."

A silver brow arched in silent question as curious stormy grey eyes locked upon the man across the bar top.

"Oh?"

Taking a breath the young man meet the elder's eyes.

"I was babysitting him you asked since Alice is still in the hospital and I caught your lad trying to fill out an order form for tombstone."

For a moment there was only silence as the spy threw back another shot.

"... I'm sure its just a phase. "


	6. Chapter 6

...I'm so screwed...

I would just like to point out now, It was absolutely one hundred percent _**NOT**_ my fault.

Well okay, maybe ninety percent not my fault...

Fine eighty and I refuse to go any lower.

If anything I blame that hag, Alice, she was obviously out to get me.

I mean, come on, how else do you accidently ship a toddler to the middle of a fucking Siberia wasteland-No, I'm not exaggerate, its a literal frozen wasteland as far as the eye could see- when you're supposed to be taking them to their Father, who was on a literal tropical island for _'vacation'_? And then there's the fact she's absolutely no where to be fount...

Yeah, this was no accident.

Blowing the white bangs out of my eyes, I fixed my scarf and trudged out into the snow only to instantly sink up to my waist. Really, I could just sit in the station forever and hoped my Father arrived sooner rather then later, but lets be honest here:

The thought never crossed my mind.

Matter of fact the only thing on my mind during that moment was vengeance and the gleeful fact my father would now have no choice but to fire the hag. ...And a strange bout of manically laughter... Probably best I keep that to myself.

* * *

Good news, I know what part of the before time line I'm currently located at.

Bad news, I'm highly unlikely to live to see the story line at this rate.

And this time, its all my fault... Well mine and natures. Toddlers bodies just weren't made to trudge none stop through the snow, they had a bad habit of collapsing into sleep. Luckily I was fount before I could freeze to death. Unluckily, I was fount.

I mean, I wouldn't have minded being fount by a normal person- maybe even the USSR- but a scientist?

Now do I really have to spell things out. Alright, listen closely:

I woke in a cage.

The only good news about the whole issue was the adorable little red head who was my _'roommate'._

He had both eyes, a matching set of molten gold that all but screamed _'You screwed up'_.

I may not have known as much as my niece but I knew from her ranting that Nigel wasn't supposed to met Red until after The Count had rescued the rouge-which should only happen _after_ the younger had an eye forcibly replaced. I wasn't supposed to be here, I wasn't supposed to met him- not for a couple more years at least.

Yet here I was. Sharing a cage with the child who would one day become Enemy Number One. I probably should have done my best to ignore him, played mute and stayed as invisible as possible. Yet I was already here, on the wrong side of the world in this lab, sitting in the same cage as him...

 _In for a penny in for a pound._

"'Ello," I offered him my most sincere and warmest smile, "My names Nigel. What's yours?"

For a moment there was a tense uncomfortable silence as those golden eyes fixated upon me, almost as though the rouge was judging wither or not if I'd live long enough for his answer to even matter.

* * *

I have to admit this wasn't how I imaged gaining my first tattoo- for one, I was far too sober and secondly: 01... Couldn't they have done something a bit more orginal?- then again I doubt anyone imaged gaining their first tattoo in a Lab. Though I suppose I should be thankful it was only upon the upper shoulder- a good shirt would cover the ink with no problem unlike some poor sod who might have been unfortunate enough to have it upon his forehead.

Then there was Red, who honestly seemed more upset about the tattoo- though the rouge insisitned upon calling it a Branding- then I did. I wasn't stupid enough to voice it but a part of me pondered if it was because the Zeros (00-09) where said to be cursed to live short lives no longer then six months at most or because his brother had been the last 01?

Or course there was one question I wasn't afraid of voicing:

How in the Seven Hells was I supposed to explain this to my Fath- Dylan?

Maybe I could blame Alice? Tell him the truth- okay maybe a slightly altered version of it- and point him in her and the scientists' directions.

If this doesn't get rid of her, I honestly don't know what will.

Though he granted me a strange look, Red didn't say a word about the sudden crackling I permitted myself to vocalize.


	7. Chapter 7

Labs where boring.

All you really did was eat, sleep, be poked and prodded, experimented on- wasn't there a law against Human Experimentation, something to do with ethics and rights? - sit in a cramped cage, or be thrown in the Gladiator fields, which I was also quite certain was illegal. If not for Red, I would have gone insane from utter boredom by now. As it was our deal to keep each other sane, worked rather well- though sometimes I'm certain the rouge was quite annoyed with me, like the time I decided to sing 99 bottles of beer on the wall and This is a song that Never Ends to drown out the screams from another room. Other times, I think he was happy to have me around if only to have something to hold onto besides his tail.

No, I did not misspeak or stutter. Red had a rather nice, fluffy tail with fur as dark as his hair- though it was another thing I wouldn't ask him about- I wondered if he was born with it or did he gain it here? Either way didn't matter, in the beginning Red clung to it for comfort when it wasn't wrapped around his waist. Though over time I fount my arm replacing it when the younger decided I was going to stay alive long enough to get to know and he wanted physical contact to ensure himself so.

It was strange really and I probably shouldn't have allowed it. In my mind I knew this child would one day become a Monster, I knew he would become my worst enemy. Yet in that moment, I didn't care as all I could see was a child...

Oh well, what's done is done and no one can chance it now. Days turned into weeks and weeks into months. A part of me was disappointed Dylan hadn't showed up yet, but I knew he would. He just needed some more time. Finally a year passed, Red thought I was deluding myself most days but I knew the old man would come eventually.

Until finally came the day of the Fire.

It was a day like every other in the beginning. I'm not sure where the fire originated from but it was probably one of the men who was opening every cage in the building that called their-selves Mice. The building was in a panic more or less, both scientist and those they once kept in cages rushing about- though some chose to stay, neither having the strength or the will to escape while refusing when they where offered aid from others. The fire seemed to be everywhere as some part of the building collapsed in on itself.

It was in this mess that I last say Red.

I would like to say I lost him in the panic but I didn't.

I remember dragging him around by his wrist, my grip probably bruising it, as we rushed after the mice. I figured it anyone knew how to get out of here it would be them and the man we where follow- Alexi- always seemed to stop for no reason when we fell behind.

So why not?

We had been so close, then there was the noise above us. It took me a moment to recognize the sound as wood- flaming wood at that- giving in upon itself. I could recall pushing Red ahead of me- watching him stumble and fall to the floor- before a loud crack filled the air.

Have you ever been crushed by a flaming support beam in a building burning down around you?

Probably not, unless you're a firefighter. Just so you know and don't attempt it some day:

It hurts. I'm pretty sure I broke some bones, maybe a couple ribs and who knows what else. For a moment, I'm pretty sure I blacked out there though I could distantly recall hearing Red's voice followed by another informing him _'it was too late'_ and that they _'needed to leave now or they'd suffer a similar fate'._

Shame I wasn't actually dead.

I think I've might of hit my head going down as I never quite figured out how that ended before the whole world faded to black. I think I stirred maybe once or twice as I could recall hearing a familiar voice calling my name and then the weight on my back seeming to vanished before I felt arm pick me up.

After that nothing.

To be honest, I'm unsure how long I slept as time had no true meaning in the lab but when I woke it was in a nice warm bed with my father attempting to break my hand with how tight he was squeezing it and a soft steady beep filling the silence of the room.

For a moment I had wondered if I had image it all, if it had all been some strange fever dream. Then I tried to sit up...

Worst idea yet.

* * *

As it turned out the labs had been real instead of some fever dream and when the beam fell on my back not only did I break sever bones but the fire had started to devour my back as well. If my Father hadn't been attempting a subtle break in at the time of the fire, well...

I would be dead.

As it was the older man must of had the devil's luck for on his way out he took the same path we had followed Alexi down and in turn stumbled across a nasty surprise he could have done without.

I wasn't complaining though it left me with a nasty truth to ponder over myself.

Before all this, I had only thought of the world as a cartoon. A child's show where no one dead and no one was truly hurt. The fact I was both hurt and could have died if not for Lady Luck's intervention wasn't lost on me.

Nor was the fact this was no longer a cartoon but a life, my life and if I wished to live to see the storyline I was going to have to take it serious.

On the bright side, Alice has seemingly disappeared into thin air and judging from the look in my Fath- Dylan's eyes when I asked I doubt anyone will see her anytime soon.


	8. Chapter 8

When I turn five- and with a lot of promises and convincing- Dylan finally allowed me to attend school. My back has healed enough that I could move around some without every wound suddenly busting open but the scars are still there.

Which is why I'm the only child wearing a long sleeve suit in the whole class- Not that I'd ever say it but the suit was rather comfortable and quite flexible instead of the restricting material I was used to in my past life. Still it garters me a few strange looks from the other children and a few teachers.

Class is boring. I already know my ABCs and 123s.

Then there's the other children.

Now don't get me wrong, I don't mind children- my niece had all but lived with me before- but there was a difference between family and snot noised brats who try rubbing bugger on you just for a laugh. One thing I was certain of: No matter how long I was here I wasn't getting an intelligential conversation though maybe another substantial growth on patients if anything.

So I do what any sane adult would:

I slept.

The desk isn't the most comfortable place to sleep- probably why they make desk so hard and uncomfortable- but I'm well practiced at sleeping in strange places for even a moments rest. The teacher- a blonde hair woman who names I never bothered to remember though I believe it started with an S... or was it a C?- doesn't take well to my day long naps and by the end of the week calls in my Father.

I spend most of the meeting sitting quietly next to the elder while the teacher rants and raves. No wonder she didn't mind the noise all the children made- she was just as loud as the whole lot of them combined. By the end of the day, I'm withdrawn from the school...

Joy.

* * *

If he was honest, Dylan had expected the call sooner.

His son was a clever Lad- too clever- who though he wouldn't shout it for the world to hear understood more then he let on. The lad wasn't suited for Public Schools, a fact the spy felt was well proven when the teacher informed him that although Nigel's work was always perfect the younger had been sleeping though all his classes for the whole week.

Instead the Lad needed a more focused and hands on approach.

Which was why Dylan had filled out the withdrawn forms the same day he filled out Nigel's acceptance forms. As far as Dylan was concern this had been nothing more then a trail run. A chance to show Nigel how things where and how they could be if he accepted the other application the spy had filled out for his son some months ago.

Nigel would never get far enough in life as a civilian but the spy held no doubts the Lad would thrive in the Academy, at least until his offspring was old enough to be a protégé that is.

Smiling the spy placed a hand on his son's shoulder, gently guiding the younger out towards the car and away from the school grounds.

* * *

The Academy was a private school on its on private island.

According to records, the school used to be a privately owned castle until the family dedicated it and the island to the education of future generations. It now severed as a boarding school for select few and took privacy to a whole new level as if couldn't even find a list of classes that the school was responsible for teaching. Upon asking Dylan about the Academy, the elder had informed me that our family has attended the school since its founding and have always come out as one of their top students.

So you know, No Pressure...

* * *

The Academy was beautiful I would grant them that.

The way the ivory and gold stone shined within the first lights of dawn where breathtaking, specifically when it reflected off of the waters surface. Then there where the tree- that almost looked like they where on fire when the sunlight hit their leaves- that surrounded the sole pathway towards the castle. Honestly, the whole thing looked more like something you would expect in an mythical book on elves and their castles instead of modern day work. Hell there was even a waterfall that flowed down moss covered boulders into a pond just a little eastwards from the midpoint of the path.

Though I was really beginning to understand why the old man liked this place, it was like some fantasy paradise brought to life-and I haven't even set foot in the castle yet- maybe that was why the students rarely went home.

The inside of the castle had been a bit modernized but was still breathtaking in its own rights, the white and gold rimmed walls where almost blinding though. White seemed to be an occurring theme here: White couches, armchairs, rugs, wall and floors. There was a crystal Chandelier that run though the room like a snake and the only colors in the room seemed to come from the dark blue curtain and pillows.

Dylan didn't seem all the effected by the brightness, instead there seemed to be a fondness in his eyes as he smiled down, squeezed my hand and pulled me along with him; further into the building.

Thinking back on it now, it was rather ironic seeing how I would one day give repeat this action with my young nephew. For now though I allowed myself to be guided through the stone halls and towards a room that I would later learn to be the Headmistress Office.


	9. Chapter 9

I was the youngest person to attend the Academy and the only person who didn't figure out what they signed up for until they where in the Headmistress Office. I could have backed out then but one look at the proud stormy eyes had all my own mental protest falling deaf even to my own ears. The way I saw it this was always meant to happen all I was doing was agreeing to speed it along and... Personally I blame it on never having a Father Figure in my last life as he had died when I had only been a year old. Now that I had one I wanted to keep that look in his eyes for as long as I could, epically when it was due to my own actions.

"I'm sure."

I don't think I've ever seen the Old Man smile so brightly before in my life. The Headmistress just granted me a slight smile.

"Very well then. We'll need your input on your rooms color scheme and then we can work on your schedule."

The bedroom design was probably the simplest part of the next three hours of my life.

All bedrooms where basically the same in the beginning but later designed and tailored to a certain students specific request, though it was mandatory for each room to hold a decent size bed, a small dresser for what couldn't be hung up in the closet, a desk and a bookshelf. The next part was the hardest:

 _The Tests._

Every student had three hours to take a multitude of test to determine their skills, knowledge and current classes they'll attend and which ones they need the most as **all ** classes where mandatory. It was one of the few times, I actually managed to stay completely focused on my work instead of spacing off or doodling on my papers. Afterword's while they where processing the papers and creating what would be my future schedule, I followed Dylan around on a small tour through the castle that ended at what would be my new bedroom for the upcoming months.

The bedroom itself reminded me much of my own back home, though with a bit more emerald green then I was used to.

I wasted no time dropping my bag onto the bed while Dylan moved about the room seeming to be searching for something, knowing how things seemed to be here It was in all likely a bug or two.

* * *

Even if it was best for both of them, it was harder for Dylan to leave then he cared to admit.

"-and make sure to stay out of trouble. "

"Yes Father."

"Are you sure you packed everything?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

He highly doubted it. Children where always forgetting something even if they didn't realize it.

"Maybe I should help you unpack? Just in case."

For a moment, those emerald eyes- so much like his mother's- focused on the elder before Nigel gave a nod.

"If you don't mind. "

"Of course not. "

Dylan already knew all of his child's embarrassing secrets anyway. His Lad couldn't keep secrets from him to save his life.

Its only after his Father has left does Nigel find the handgun and clip tucked within a specially hollowed history book slipped beneath his pillow. It takes him only a few seconds to recognize the book as one his Father usually kept upon his study desk. Standing, the snowy haired child places it within the History Section of his own bookshelf without a second thought.

* * *

As I'm sure you can guess not everyone was too happy about it seeing how the original mandatory age had been ten and older.

The most vocal of the protest came from an American boy with ebony black hair yet strangely enough golden eyebrows and dark crimson eyes who not only was my next door neighbor- so to speak- but also attended most of my Advanced Classes. Buck Rockgut- I felt like an idiot when he had to introduce himself before I remembered- was his name and harassing me was his favorite game.

Only this time, instead of thinking I'm too soft for the job like he did the original Nigel, he thought I was too young as well.

If I'm honest, he annoys me. Especially in classes involving weapon training- its kind of difficult to learn how to properly throw knives or shot a gun without breaking a shoulder when he keeps taking the weapons away followed by a lecture on why children shouldn't play with firearms or blades. Not even the instructor was safe from his lectures about reckless endangerment.

Then there was the combat lessons- Talk about a Nightmare. Half the time I ended up being carried about like a Doll as crimson eyes glared murder at what should have been my opponents. Eventually we had to be placed in separate classes just so I could actually participate.

Rockgut seemed to take this as permission to become a Grade A Stalker.

I really don't understand that Bloody American but hopefully he'll find a new hobby sooner rather than later.


	10. Chapter 10

**"What do you mean you can't swim?!"**

It was official, Rockgut lived to stalk and embarrass me.

"Exactly what I said. I can't swim. "

"And you thought it was a good idea to jump in, are you insane?"

"It was either jump or have the instructor throw me in. Figured it was better if I made the choice myself so I could at least control where I landed. "

 _Why am I even explaining myself to him?_

I had calculate everything perfectly, landing in a part deep enough not to break any bones upon impact but shallow enough not to drown. The silence seemed to stretch with only the soft scratching noise of my pencil upon paper to fill the air. After another moment, the sound of a chair scrapping across the floor filled my ear- for a brief moment I allowed myself to hope that maybe, _just maybe_ he was finally going to drop it and get off my case.

This Hope was crushed a moment later as I was lifted out of my chair.

"Well then, If you don't' know. Now is as a good time to learn as any."

I won't lie, Rockgut is a Slave Driver or a complete Perfectionist- _then again was there honestly a difference?-_ but if nothing else he managed to obtain results at all cost. Now if only he would stop his _'You don't belong in this line of work'_ speeches, He might _\- and I stress the word:_

 _ **Might** -_ be tolerable enough to be around for more then half an hour.

* * *

I take it back.

Rockgut is Intolerable and nothing will ever change that.

I get it, he doesn't like me here but to stage a kidnapping and relocation to a _'safer environment'._ If I could I would string him up by his neck for such an attempt. Unfortunately murder is very much frowned upon but as it is, I end up sleeping with one hand under my pillow, tightly around the handle of Father's handgun most nights.

Which reminds me, I need to send a letter for another clip, this one's almost out seeing how three of them ended up in my wall and one of them ended up in a would be kidnapper.

I never actually get a chance to send the letter _\- the Headmistress must have or my Father was a complete and utter stalker-_ as the first thing I wake to the next morning is Dylan's overtight grip. It takes me a moment to realize I'm being carried around, but seeing as its only Father I do not anything I suppose I had become rather used to my Father randomly picking me up and carrying me around like a doll whenever it crossed his fancy. _Its not like he ever listened when I protested against the action anyways. Might as well just enjoy the moment while saving myself the headache of trying to out argue the stubborn man._

 _The moment stormy grey eyes noticed I was no longer sleeping a warm smile fount its way to the elder's face,_ "Good Morning, Nigel. "

It never failed to amaze me how cheerful the man could sound so early in the morning _\- was it even morning seeing as a brief glimpse through the window showed the stars were still out?_ Though I couldn't quite manage the man's unnatural cheer _-It was far too early to even consider it-_ I did manage to mumble out a small _'morning'_ for greeting.

The smile I received in return almost blinded me, "Good news, Lad. Due to the recent ' _Security Issues'_ you get to spend the next week with me."

 _I swear something about his cheer that just wasn't natural._

* * *

There was a difference between knowing someone was supposed to be dangerous and actually witnessing- _experiencing_ \- it in person.

In my mind, I knew Dylan was a spy; one of the best in his field. I knew he killed, lied and deceived on a daily basics- _one didn't last long in espionage without doing so-_ Yet at the same time: _I didn't._

I suppose in my mind, I was still seeing this world as nothing more than a television show- _the background story of a child's cartoon of all things_ \- and not my actual reality. At least, not until I had blood spattered across my face and the man I called _'Father'_ trying to clean it with a handkerchief as though he didn't just slit a complete strangers throat only moments before.

"Look at you, not a single tear in sight," A fond smile fount its way onto the elder's face, a hint of pride clear in his eyes, "That's my brave Lad. "

I was I could say it was bravery that kept me standing there as silent as the grave, but it wasn't. If anything it was probably shock keeping me froze. After all, I had been talking face to face with the man when his throat had been slit. I was sure I would be suffering nightmares for some time to come though Dylan didn't seem to realize it as he kept smiling as though nothing was wrong; while continuing his efforts of scrubbing the blood off my face.

"I told the Commander you were mature enough for this. You're going to be an excellent Agent when your older Nigel. "

I always knew Uncle Nigel was a Spy, one of the best for the agency, but I never quite knew he had started so young. A part of me couldn't help but ponder what he would have done- _Would he have cried? Broken down? Ran for all he was worth? Flinched from Dylan's touch?_ \- had I not been reincarnated into his place within the storyline.

 _Unfortunately that was one question I would never know the answer to._


End file.
